What Is, Is
by Willow-Bee the Cat
Summary: After the defeat of Voldemort, Harry sets out to find what's left of his mother's family. Unhappy with her the way her life is going, Hermione takes a new job that will set her on a collision course with one of her best friends. HPMarvelComics Crossover
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own or make a profit from Harry Potter or Marvel Comics

Timeline: After the defeat of voldemort.

Spoilers: through book six for Harry Potter. Sometime after the first ten or twenty issues of X-Force.

Pairings: Harry/Hermione, Ron/Luna

Author's Note: I know, I know, I shouldn't be starting a new story. I just couldn't resist. I should be working on my other story, but I couldn't resist.

Chapter 1

Harry Potter had quickly come to the conclusion that it might have been best to stay in bed that day. Well, if his bed hadn't been a melted mess of metal springs and fire.

Sometimes he really hated his life. Alright, not so much his life as his ability to piss people off. Was it his fault he kept picking fights with dark wizards?

For a moment Harry considered that they might be trying to kill him because of a combination of his hero complex, fame for having killed Voldemort (finally), and his sense of humor. But really, if they were going to be walking clichés, the least they could do was allow the mouthy hero to make some snide comments.

Harry couldn't help but snort. Who in their right mind referred to themselves as The Dark Lady Foo Foo? Really, the standard of dark wizards was going downhill. Fast. For a moment he almost missed Bellatrix LeStrange. Now that was what he called a dark witch. Bella wouldn't have even bothered to torture The Dark Lady Foo Foo before killing her.

Duck. Dodge. Roll to the right. Use column for cover. Shooting out two spells, Harry smirked to himself. A new personal record. The Dark Lady Foo Foo was bound and gagged three minutes and thirty two seconds into her "reign of terror," her evil army of bunnies decimated.

The nineteen year old let out a sigh. Everybody but him had figure out what to do with their lives. Ron was in Auror training. Hermione worked in Muggle Relations. Ginny had just married Dean. Luna was working as a reporter for the Quibbler. Even Neville had a job.

And what was he doing for a living? Nothing! Alright, so he took the odd job. The usual sort of job. Kill that Dark Witch for thirty thousand Galleons. Infiltrate and destroy that militant organization for two and a half million pounds. Get back those stolen plan for eighteen thousand Galleons. Smuggle something extremely illegal into China for fifty thousand dollars. That sort of thing.

All right, Harry had to admit that most of those jobs weren't exactly legal. As far as his friends were concerned, Harry spent most of his time living off the money his parents had left him. For a moment Harry wondered why they thought that the Potters or Blacks had been that rich. By the end of the first war against Voldemort both families had only a fraction of their former wealth.

It wasn't so much Harry's inability to find a good job as his unwillingness. Even if Harry didn't enjoy killing, it was what he was good at. Admittedly he wasn't bothered much by killing either. After destroying the Horcruxes, living in war zone after war zone in an attempt to avoid notice by Voldemort and his forces while endangering as few people as possible, Harry had found himself unable to live that normal life he'd always wanted.

He'd been unable to stay away from fighting and bloodshed and the adrenaline rush that came from sneaking past security Gringott's was jealous of. He had tried it after the war. More than a week living the normal life and he'd start to get twitchy. Two weeks as a civilian and he'd be stir crazy. By the end of the month Harry had thought he was going insane.

It wasn't like he could work for the Ministry of Magic. Harry had long since lost what little trust he'd had in the government. Being one of their employees was entirely out of the question. Harry was quite sure that they would have used him as a mascot left safely behind a desk when not needed.

At least this way he was working. Even if it was just odd jobs here and there.

* * *

In the year and a half since the end of the war, Harry had started eating dinner with Remus and Tonks once a month. Remus was the last connection he had to his parents and a friend.

Remus glanced at the face of annoyance Tonks was making, blinked, then said, "That reminds me, I found something I wanted to give you."

"Huh?"

"Right before your parents went into hiding Lily left some old letters and childhood photos with Sirius. He would have given them to you, but they had been left in the apartment he'd inherited from his uncle," explained Remus. "I finally got them out of storage last month. It took me quite a bit of time to track them down."

"I-thanks," said Harry.

The evening took a more serious turn for the rest of the night. Their conversation turned to new Ministry policy and the incompetence and corruption of nearly every politician in the Ministry.

* * *

"Oh poo," said a young woman, stomping her foot.

The woman was blonde, with hip length straggly hair, almost unhealthily pale skin, and large gray eyes. She was short, not much more than five feet tall with a body that, while not chunky was not exactly thin either. She wore a bright green sweater and a purple skirt that reached mid-calf. Around her neck was a necklace of butterbeer caps.

"I knew I should have taken that other bus," muttered to herself. "I missed it."

In front of her was what could only be described as a battlefield. An area which could roughly be described as a city block had been destroyed. Most of the buildings were still standing, but there was rubble and small fires everywhere. A car was stuck halfway into a building to the woman's left.

With a sigh the woman turned to walk away. Best to leave before the police arrived.

* * *

Harry smiled sadly as he looked through the photo album. A picture of his mother as an infant, several of his Mum and Aunt Petunia. Harry turned the page. There was a picture of Mum, Aunt Petunia and his grandmother, according to what was written below.

That wasn't what had struck Harry as odd, though. What Harry had noticed was the slight swell of his grandmother's stomach. In the next three pictures that swell became more obvious.

Wondering what else Aunt Petunia had never told him about his family, Harry turned the page.

* * *

Hermione smiled and nodded, barely paying attention to what Ginny was saying. Nearly every table in the restaurant was taken. The waitresses seemed to be beyond frazzled by how busy it was.

Every once in a while Hermione would make a rather ambiguous noise that could either be taken as agreement or disagreement. It seemed that what little Ginny had learned during the war was forgotten. Not only had Ginny completely dropped her guard, she'd also allowed Hermione to take the best seat. One with her back to the wall where she could discretely keep an eye on all visible entrances and exits.

Hermione felt a wave of disgust wash over her. Voldemort might be dead, but quite a few of his Death Eaters were still at large. Not to mention the fact that there were quite a few dark wizards not associated with Voldemort. And for that matter, one couldn't forget what was happening in the Muggle world.

For all that the wizarding world tried to pretend otherwise, muggles were really quite dangerous. There were numerous groups of so-called mutants that seemed to be on either side of the law. While the United Kingdom was relatively untouched by the battles between various groups (unless one counted the exploits of Excalibur), it was still a very real danger.

She could understand her father's point quite well. And she agreed with parts of it. She could still hear his voice, hours after the fact.

"For all that those wizards hold themselves to be superior, they are nothing but sheep. They are unable to do anything without a strong leader."

Her father was right. With Dumbledore dead and Harry practically a hermit, there was nothing to rally around. So the witches and wizards went back to their normal lives, forgetting what skills and lessons they had learned in battle. And when the next Dark Lord or Lady arose the wizarding world would be just as helpless as it had been during both Voldemort's rises to power.

And once more Hermione considered how wise her decision to attend Hogwarts had been. Sure, they taught her how to control her magical abilities, but if her father hadn't insisted she be tutored during the summer, Hermione was quite sure she wound never have received her diploma. What use was power without knowledge?

She could count on one hand the number of people who had not forgotten the lessons learned during the war, not including Aurors and Hitwizards. Hermione wasn't really sure if Ron counted, he was in training to be an Auror, after all. Luna was still as aware and cautious as she had been during the war. Although that could just be her imagination. Luna had always been hard to read. Professor Lupin, of course. But he had been that way the entire time Hermione had known him. No doubt a leftover from the first war.

And Harry… Harry had always been cautious. He'd always had that look about him, he'd just gotten better at hiding it over the years. Hermione could still remember the look in Harry's eyes when he thought nobody was watching. By the time they reached second year that look was gone. Hidden at all times.

And how could Hermione have explained that she recognized that look? How could she explain that she'd seen that look on street children during the various _vacations _her parents had taken her on long before she'd ever heard of Hogwarts? And how could she explain that she'd seen the same look in her parent's eyes, in the eyes of their employees?

She couldn't. Hermione had given Harry her loyalty years earlier. After the philosopher stone incident, Hermione had decided that she would stick by Harry, despite the danger. And that meant keeping his secrets.

Sometimes Hermione wondered if she had given Harry her loyalty because of the danger. Because Harry reminded her of her family and her childhood.

And how could Hermione put into words what she had seen in her fellow students that first year at Hogwarts? How could she explain that even at that time, she had known quite clearly that with the exception of several Slytherins and Harry, Her fellow students were nothing but innocents?

Hermione still knew why she had lied for Harry and Ron after nearly being killed by that troll. And it wasn't because they had rescued her. If it had just been Ron, Hermione never would have lied for him. Sure, he had faced a mountain troll, but he was still an innocent. But Harry had been there as well. And Harry was no innocent.

Harry was… Hermione wasn't really sure how to explain it. She had known even then that Harry had seen the horrors ordinary humans couldn't even begin to imagine. And her association with him would not destroy his innocence, he had none left to destroy.

"Hermione, are you listening to me?"

"Of course I am, Ginny," said Hermione. "You and Dean were considering buying a house."

Ginny smiled and continued talking, not realizing that Hermione had merely guessed. Not that Hermione was about to tell Ginny that she had no idea what she was talking about.

Sometimes Hermione wondered if Harry had seen her as anything other than an innocent little know-it-all with an unhealthy trust of authority figures back during Hogwarts. Hermione openly admitted that she had been a know-it-all, but her so-called trust of authority had been an act.

Hermione had tried so hard to leave her parents influence. Become a nice, upstanding, law abiding person. Most pre-teens rebelled by trying to break as many rules and laws as they thought they could get away with. Hermione had rebelled by following the law, the rules, to the letter.

Her parents had hated it. They had talked several times about removing her from Hogwarts and schooling her at home. Technically, it was her father who had talked of sucvh things. Her mother had never really had much of an opinion about anything at all, including her daughter.

It was only the threat of running away to the magical world and hiding in places they'd never be able to find that had kept her at Hogwarts. She could have done it quite easily. There was enough money in an account set up by her parents for her to live on until graduation from Hogwarts.

Not that she'd ever told Ron or Harry any of this. As far as they were concerned, her parents were rather normal Dentists. Hermione had every intention to keep it that way.

* * *

Harry let out a growl of annoyance. He would rather be doing anything but this. Unfortunately Aunt Petunia was really the only other source of information.

Remus had almost no information on who Zinnia Evans was. He hadn't even known whom Harry was talking about until he mentioned the name Neena. Remus had faintly remembered overhearing Lily talk to one of friends about somebody or something named Neena being missing back during their second year. According to Remus, for months after that Lily had been rather melancholy, barely remembering to yell at James after pranks.

That had only been confirmed by what one of his mother's old letters had said. One from his grandmother, Beatrice, to his mother. She had said that Neena was missing and had asked if Lily had any information.

From what he could gather, Zinnia had been his mother's younger sister. Judging by the pictures Zinnia had been four or five years younger than Lily. There had even been several letters written by Neena, as she preferred to be called. Not that Harry could blame her. Who in their right mind would name their child Zinnia?

Then again, his grandparents had liked the name Petunia as well. And Petunia had named her son Dudley. Maybe the inability to give good names to their offspring was a problem with the Evans family.

With that thought Harry rang the doorbell to number four Privet drive. This was going to be an unpleasant conversation. Hopefully Dudley and Uncle Vernon weren't home.

Aunt Petunia opened the door, paled, then tried to slam the door shut. With a sigh, Harry stopped the door, then pushed it open hard enough to make Aunt Petunia stumble.

"W-w-what are you doing here?" she demanded.

"I don't want to be here any more than you want me to be here," said Harry, closing the door behind him. "However, since you're the only family member who was alive and would remember twenty seven years ago, you're the one I need to talk to."

"W-what do you want?"

Harry leaned against the wall. "I found out about my other aunt. You know, I did some checking, read the police report, the newspaper articles. None of it made sense. I have some leads, but I want to hear your side of the story first."

"I-I didn't have a-anything to do with Neena's disappearance."

"But you did, Aunt Petunia."

"What makes you think you can find her when the police couldn't?" she demanded.

"I have better tools and all the information," he said. "Now Aunt Petunia, here's what we're going to do. We're going to go into the kitchen and sit down. Then you're going to tell me everything you didn't tell the police about the night Neena disappeared."

"I didn't lie to the police."

"Now that isn't true and you know it. You withheld information from the police. Now you have a choice; you can tell me what you didn't tell the police of your own volition, or I can get out some Veritaserum. You do remember what Veritaserum is, right?"

Aunt Petunia nodded slowly, a look of fright upon her face.

* * *

For a moment Ron Weasley considered the thought that entering the Auror Academy might not have been the best idea. For once in his life he was at the top of his class. And that was the problem.

Sure, being an Auror was a great honor, but did he really want to spend his time as a ministry lackey? Maybe Harry did have the right idea. When asked, Harry had said that he did a couple odd jobs here and there, some investments, that sort of thing. A lie if Ron ever heard one. Ron had little doubt that Harry was doing something… illegal. Not that Ron blamed him. A lot of soldiers became mercenaries after their government no longer needed them.

And Ron sometimes wished he had gone along with Harry. At least then he wouldn't be surrounded by people he was a hundred times better than, trying to get a job that was not only low paying, but so… controlled.

Sometimes Ron really did miss the war. Not so much the killing and battles, but the freedom. The freedom to do what needed to be done to win. The problem with being an Auror was that one needed to follow the law when apprehending criminals.

Around those new recruits Ron felt so old, despite only being a year older. They were children who had never really been touched be the war. Children who had no idea how terrible people could be. And sometimes Ron thought he knew how Mad-Eye Moody felt, surrounded by people who didn't realize that Constant Vigilance was one of the few things that could keep a person alive.

* * *

"I suggest you start at the beginning," said Harry, noticing the way Aunt Petunia had hesitated.

She looked down at the tea in her hand. "I was fifteen and Neena eight. Lily had just gone back to school and my parents wanted a night out on the town. So they asked me to babysit."

"I know that already," said Harry, his impatience showing through.

Aunt Petunia gave him a reproachful look. "As I was saying, I had been left alone to watch Neena. Everything had been fine at first. We'd watched a movie then played a couple card games. She went to bed without much fuss. I started on my homework.

"Everything was fine until ten or so. I-I heard a noise upstairs…

* * *

Petunia shut her text book with a sigh. Couldn't her sister just stay in bed? Every night, the same thing. Neena would be put to bed and less than an hour later she was playing with those toys of hers.

At the bottom of the stairs Petunia flipped the switch on. Without waiting for the light, she started up the stairs. About halfway up Petunia realized the light had stopped working. Muttering a curse under her breath she continued up. She'd deal with the light later.

Hearing something fall, Petunia moved faster. What on earth was Neena doing? She opened the door and stepped into the room before she had a chance to take in what was happening.

Petunia stopped short. A large muscular man held an unconscious Neena in his arms. He had short black hair, skin that made Neena look tan in comparison and large red eyes.

"What are you doing with my sister?" demanded Petunia.

* * *

"…and the next thing I knew, I was being woken up by my mother," explained Aunt Petunia. "I only told Lily about the red eyed man."

"Why?"

"Because he was some sort of freak, like her."

Harry fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Alright, I have several pictures of Neena as a child, but they're in black and white. Can you tell me her hair and eye color?"

"She always had pitch black hair. We could never figure out why. Purple eyes. Her skin was really pale, paler than Lily's. And she had a spot around her left eye. A birthmark."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Harry read the newspaper, a look of boredom on his face. A man sat down next to him on the bench. A rather ordinary looking man in a nondescript suit.

"Do you have the money?" the man asked.

"That depends entirely on whether or not you have the information," said Harry. A large envelope became visible. "Five as promised."

The trade was quick, the envelope for a small bag of galleons. Harry tucked the envelope under her jacket and stood up. Folding his newspaper he walked away.

* * *

Hermione fought the urge to bash her head against her desk. At times she despised her boss. Yet another incident where the police had nearly found out about magic because of an Obliviator's ineptitude.

At times she hated her job. Forever cleaning up the messes others made. And where would she be in twenty years? Cleaning up the same mistakes, the same messes.

Eventually she'd loose her edge, her instincts. She'd become some dowdy old woman grouchier than old Mafalda Hopkirk. Did she really go to Hogwarts for this? Did she fight a war for this? No, she didn't.

"Miss Granger, it took several hours to clean up the mess you made of that household. I know that you're still new and are permitted to make mistakes, but you had claimed that you were capable of introducing a Muggle-born to the magical community."

She let out a growl. "That's it! It is not my fault that the boy and his parents were prejudiced against all forms of the supernatural! They were members of the Friends of Humanity for Merlin's sake!"

"Miss Granger, one more outburst like that and no matter how exemplary your work, you will be terminated," said Mr. Kenton, her boss.

"I wouldn't worry about firing me," said Hermione, a sickly sweet smile upon her face. "I quit. My desk will be cleaned out momentarily."

"What about notice?" he demanded.

"I'm sorry I couldn't give you my two week's notice-actually, I'm not sorry. And no, I will not continue to work in this office a moment longer."

With a sweep of her wand, all personal effects had flown into an old crate under her desk she'd used as a footstool. She picked up the crate.

"Good day, Mr. Kenton," spat out Hermione. "I hope to never see you or this office again."

* * *

Harry looked over the information in the file. It wasn't much, but it was enough. Only a couple newspaper pictures had been enough to made Harry realize the familiarity. The information one of his informants in the Muggle branch of the government had been more than enough to confirm his suspicion. The only question was, how did he approach her?

His aunt had lived a hard life for the past twenty seven years. She might not even remember her sisters. She certainly had no idea that Lily had had a son.

Harry had already known Neena's location when he'd… questioned Aunt Petunia. There were few ways to hide from scrying spells. He had only questioned her so that he'd have a better understanding of what'd happened that night.

Putting the file in a drawer, Harry decided to figure out his next move at a later time. He did have a job to do, after all. He only had until the end of the week to assassinate the rather influential resident of Hightown, Madripoor.

* * *

Hermione paced her apartment, trying not to cry. What had she done? How could she have been so stupid? Quitting her job like that. It had to be one of the most random things she'd ever done, and that was saying a lot considering who her parents were and that her best friends made causing chaos look like a science.

She could just go back to Mr. Kenton. Beg for her job back. It would be so easy, so very easy.

No. She would not go crawling back to anybody. Ever.

Then there was nothing left to do but find a new job. But where could she go? She wouldn't be able to get another job at the ministry, not that she wanted one. And did she really want to work in some store where people came to gawk at the "War Hero"? Well, the wizarding world was out of the question, then.

So she had to find a job somewhere in the Muggle world. But what could she do? Sure, she had a diploma, but not a university degree. So she would only be qualified for jobs that… were undoubtedly below her skill level.

Hermione briefly considered attempting to convince her father to pay for her to go to a university. She certainly didn't have the money herself, and by her calculations, working at the same time wouldn't pay nearly enough unless it was three separate jobs. But her father would just snap at her and tell her to either join the family business or marry a man who would be willing and qualified to participate in the family business.

Her mother wasn't an option. At some point during the war, her mother had died. Her father hadn't really explained the circumstances of his wife's death, which led Hermione to believe he might have had something to do with it.

It seemed to be the most likely possibility. Her father had only married the woman for her uterus and the rather impressive military and criminal work of her family. And of course the woman's child caring abilities. Hermione had little doubt that her father had not wanted to deal with a small child at all, so had left her with her mother most of the time. With Hermione grown up and fighting in a war, there would have been no need for her mother's continued presence.

Hermione flopped down in a chair. She really should have thought about what she was doing before she had quit like that. Going to her father wasn't an option, neither was any job she could think of in the Muggle or Magical world.

A soft tapping broke Hermione's thoughts. She looked over to the nearest window. Just outside the window was a small brown burrowing owl. Wondering why Luna had written, Hermione let the owl in.

* * *

Harry raised an eyebrow. "And who was your source?"

"Ginny," said Ron. "Who heard it from Percy who heard it from that old biddy, Hopkirk."

For a moment Harry considered comparing the chain of information to a game of telephone. However he thought better of it at how serious Ron looked. "Hermione really quit her job, yelled at her former boss, and used accidental or wandless magic to set her desk on fire on the way out?"

"I always knew Hermione would go nutters one day, crack under the pressure or something," Ron shrugged. "Just didn't expect it so soon."

"Riiiiight. Who's turn is it?"

"Hey, I made her breakfast, lunch and dinner for five days strait when she had the flu last month."

Harry just gave him a look. "But I was the one that bought her… feminine products because she was too ill to get out of bed. And I was the one who took Crookshanks to the vet so that he could get fixed."

"Fine," sighed Ron. "I'll go talk to Hermione and find out what's going on."

* * *

Hermione starred, as if not quite sure of what to make of the woman in front of her. "You're really offering me a job. Luna, no offense, but I really don't think that I would enjoy writing articles for the Quibbler."

Luna tilted her head to the side. "I never said it would be as a reporter. Do you remember what I said on how the Quibbler paid its employees?"

She thought for a minute. Hermione's eyes widened. "You don't pay. I remember you telling Harry back in Fifth year. You said that the Quibbler didn't pay its reporters."

"Of course we don't pay them," said Luna. "The people they're working for pay them. It's all in the contract."

"I'm listening."

"The Quibbler is a front for an agency that employs former military personnel, both Muggle and Magical. They sign a contract with us, file monthly coded reports, which are printed as stories in the Quibbler. We are contacted by outside sources that wish to hire… people such as the ones we employ for certain fees. Anything from bodyguard work to assassination to deliveries."

"Why are they printed in the Quibbler?"

"We need to print something to keep our cover and it helps the various agents keep in touch and know what the others are doing. It's a failsafe so that our agents don't come up against each other. That would be in breech of contract, of course."

She was silent for several moments, considering her options. "How much does it pay and what does your contract look like?"

Luna handed Hermione what seemed to be ninety pages of small type print. "I'll be back tomorrow, you have until then to read it over."

* * *

Ron wasn't quite sure what to make of the scene in front of him. Hermione was in her chair reading something rather thick. He had, as per usual, come through the private floo connection. The floo was limited to a half dozen people.

"Hermione?"

"Hello Ron? Are you going to be staying long?" She didn't look up from her reading.

"Uh, I dunno. What are you doing?"

"Going over my contract. Which reminds me, I'm going to be working for the Quibbler from now on. As a reporter."

Ron stuttered, not sure what to say. "Y-y-you really quit?"

* * *

Harry was a little surprised to find out that Hermione had quit a rather good job to work for the _Quibbler_. If he hadn't known for sure that Hermione had been able to throw off the Imperious for more than two years, he might have been worried. As it was, he was just confused.

He settled back into his seat. Flying coach was uncomfortable, but it could be worse. He still wasn't sure what to do about his aunt, though. Just show up on her doorstep? That would just be asking to get shot. But what else was there? Any other ideas he had come up with seemed too much like he was trying to manipulate her.

There wasn't anything for it. Showing up on her doorstep was the only reasonable thing he could think of.

* * *

"Luna, is this the standard contract that everybody signs or can I add some clauses to it?"

"What sort of clauses?"

* * *

Harry examined the files in front of him. He had done exhaustive research on the various people his aunt was associated with. It had taken longer than planned, but that was all right. There wasn't really a time limit on this. It was better to know too much than too little in his experience.

Unsure of what he would encounter, Harry had decided to travel light. Some basic supplies; Muggle American dollars and British pounds. A couple forms of identification, credit cards belonging to people who didn't really exist were in hidden pockets. A bag with a change of clothing, a blanket and some extra weapons was thrown over one shoulder. It was heavier than he had packed most of the time during the war, but he wasn't planning on going into battle.

Harry knew that the picture he presented was one of a college or high school student. He wore baggy, slightly worn clothing which his weapons rather well. There were two guns, a small plasma riffle, five knives of varying lengths, lock picks, a garrote hidden in the collar of his shirt, his primary wand, two back up wands, and several other weapons.

It might have been overkill, but it was better to be safe. Even with the information he had gathered, he couldn't be sure about what he was up against until he had a look around.

Still several blocks away from where his aunt lived, Harry came to the conclusion that it would probably be best to appear as harmless as possible just in case. Which, unfortunately, meant approaching the warehouse as openly as possible. Part of him screamed about how stupid it was to be so open to attack, but he stopped that line of thought rather quickly.

* * *

Hermione had been given a quick introduction to the Quibbler employees between assignments before Luna had told her of her first job. It was rather simple bodyguard work. Protect an influential member of the United States Congress and his family during his stay in the UK.

Even if it wasn't that difficult, Hermione loved it. Being able to use her skills again was wonderful. Not to mention the fact that the Congressman was not being difficult like some people were when they had bodyguards.

It was rather nice working for the man. He had wanted a bodyguard to protect his family and occasionally himself. Apparently he was involved in some controversial legislation. He had specifically requested that Hermione look and act as normal as possible, preferably mistakable for a personal assistant.

* * *

Sam Guthrie was unsure of what to make of the person standing on their doorstep. The man was neither tall nor short with shaggy black hair that reached his shoulders in the sides and back. He wore bottle cap glasses, which almost hid the scar on his forehead and drew attention away from the scar on his cheek. The man appeared to be around the same age as him and his teammates.

"May Ah help y'?" said Sam

"I'm looking for Domino," said the man, a British accent obvious.

"An' why are y' lookin' for her?" asked Sam, not bothering to hide his suspicion.

"It's a private matter."

* * *

Ron winced at the answer one of his fellow students gave. Without a second thought he raised his hand. Why wasn't the professor pointing out the flaws in Kevin's plan.

After a long moment Ron was called on. "If you do that, you and your partner could be dead…"

Ron ignored the way they glared at him, the appraising look his professor gave. He outlined four different plans that would have worked better before he was stopped.

* * *

Harry sat on the chair, waiting patiently. He ignored the looks various members of the team, X-Force gave him, giving only monosyllabic answers to their questions. Not enough to be rude, but enough to make it clear that he did not appreciate their line of questioning.

Their leader, Guthrie, had gone somewhere into the warehouse to talk to Domino. The blonde-Tabitha-asked a question he couldn't answer in one word. It would be best not to lie, at least not yet.

"After I left Her Majesty's Royal Marines I started doing… odd jobs," said Harry.

He knew what he had implied, and what they could take from his statement. It could have been worse. But it wasn't that important. He had told the truth, sort of. As far as his Muggle records were concerned, Harry Potter had attended a military academy for six years. Before finishing school he had joined the Marines.

And during the war he and his friends had been members of the Magical equivalent of the Royal Marines, even if they got a rushed version of basic training. Several of the treaties between the Ministry of Magic and the Royal family meant that any military experience could be claimed as the Muggle equivalent.


End file.
